


Delusional

by golden_redhead



Series: Oumota Weekend 2019 [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Oumota Weekend 2019, Superpowers, Team Danganronpa - Freeform, Tojo Saihara Iruma and Professor Iidabashi are mentioned, alternative universe, injuries, prompt: villain/hero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 06:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_redhead/pseuds/golden_redhead
Summary: “I almost feel sorry for you,” spoke the voice again, his overwhelmed brain struggling to connect it to the person looming over him. “I’d rather keep you than kill you but Danganronpa’s instructions were clea---ah!”The monologue was interrupted abruptly by a scream of surprise followed closely by a series of noises, and-“Only I get to kill Momota-chan,” came a new voice, the pout in it almost audible in the sudden silence. “He’s mine to kill and I will fight you over this!”---a.k.a. Momota is an experienced hero but even he can get into trouble if he's not careful. Good thing that there's someone willing to extend a helping hand.





	Delusional

**Author's Note:**

> I am organizing Oumota Weekend 2019! If you want to know more - check oumota-events.tumblr.com  
> Also: yes, I am aware that I'm late to my own event :') I suck.  
> As always big big THANK YOU for @asteroidtaker (Tumblr) for beta reading!

Momota barely had the strength to raise his head, the ringing in his head intensifying with every second, his eyes too blurry to make out the shapes, turning the world into a mess of multicolored blobs. He knew that his enemy was out there, somewhere close by. He knew that he should have called backup when he still had the chance, pride getting the better of him. 

 

It was bad.

 

It was really, really bad. 

 

With a groan he rested his head back on the hard ground, small rocks digging into his cheek uncomfortably, shards of glass piercing his skin and drawing blood. He couldn’t focus, the world a myriad of colors and smells and sensations, all of that muted by the heavy pressure of pain spreading through his chest and making it hard to breathe. He could feel the metallic taste of blood welling in his mouth but he lacked the strength to spit it out, a thin trail of blood dripping down his chin instead and onto the ground below. He tried to move, tried to crawl, but the spikes of pain surged through his body, making him freeze instantly and hold his breath. He couldn’t even tell what was the main source of pain, his body just hurting all over. Momota had a vague idea that there was something wrong with his left leg from when a powerful kick from the enemy sent him falling through the roof, the sickening noise of a cracking bone mingling with a strangled cry of pain. A broken rib would also explain the agonizing ache and tightness on his chest.  

 

He didn’t know how long he lied there, his body limited to nothing but pain, thoughts a scattered and disoriented swarm of confusion. He was on the verge of giving in to the darkness creeping and creeping upon the edges of his mind when he felt a hand patting his head in an almost tender manner, touch soft and warm and motherly - that is until suddenly the fingers clenched around the loose strands of hair and yanked. It tore a scream out of his lips and he gritted his teeth and tried to fight the tears that flooded his eyes. 

 

“Who knew it would be that easy, huh?” He heard over the ringing in his ears. 

 

The voice sounded vaguely female, high and shrill. He didn’t know whether it was a friend or enemy but between the hair yanking and the mocking undertone he would bet on the latter. He fought to pry his eyes open but even once they did - a little, just a fraction - all he could make out was the shape of the person’s boots and a cascade of long teal hair brushing against the ground in their crouched position by his side. 

 

The touch turned gentle once more, fingers combing through hair the same way his grandma used to, telling him stories and singing lullabies until his eyes closed and the dreams of stars pulled him into their sweet embrace. 

 

A giggle came from somewhere above his head and the slender fingers left his hair as the person raised to their feet. He let out a small reflexive whimper at the loss of contact, the air around him growing colder as the figure pulled away. He tried to turn to the side but a spark of pain blooming in his chest reminded him of its existence, successfully stopping him from moving any more.

 

“I almost feel sorry for you,” spoke the voice again, his overwhelmed brain struggling to connect it to the person looming over him. “I’d rather keep you than kill you but Danganronpa’s instructions were clea---ah!”

 

The monologue was interrupted abruptly by a scream of surprise followed closely by a series of noises, and-

 

“Only I get to kill Momota-chan,” came a new voice, the pout in it almost audible in the sudden silence. “He’s mine to kill and I will fight you over this!” 

 

He recognized his voice, he’s heard that before, even if he couldn’t match it with a specific face. This one was undeniably male, even though it was laced with a childish undertone. The words made no sense, however, just a blur of vowels and consonants that his worn-out brain couldn’t decipher.

 

“I thought you were a hero,” spat the first voice and even through a thick layer of pain Momota could hear its confusion, as if the person isn’t sure whether the other is serious or not.  

 

Then came some new sound that after the longest moment his muddled with agony brain finally registered as a laugh - weird, horse-like laugh - and the second voice spoke up again. 

 

“Maybe I had a change of heart,” it sounded cheerful, too cheerful, how could anyone be this cheerful when there was so much pain. “Or maybe not! Who knows. Momota-chan is mine so take your filthy shapeshifty hands off him.”

 

Shapeshifter?

 

Right… He was fighting with a shapeshifter, wasn’t he? They tried to steal some… some simulator of sorts. The memory of Saihara and Tojo trying to explain it to him resurfaced in his brain, breaking through a fog of pain. 

 

The simulator was… some kind of game. A deadly game that trapped your consciousness in the reality that could be shaped and twisted and modified by whoever was in its possession.  He didn’t really understand any of it, simply raising his thumbs up and flashing them both a confident smile, promising to get it back. All he knew was that it was dangerous, able to alter the memories of its victims, erase memories and replace them with new ones. Team Danganronpa, the evil organization that they’ve been fighting against for years wouldn’t hesitate to kill in order get their hands on it, determined to steal it ever since Professor Iidabashi constructed it with Iruma’s assistance, who intended the technology to be used to help survivors of abuse struggling with trauma.  

 

He lost the track of the conversation after that, but he couldn’t tell whether it was because the voices stopped talking or if he should blame it on his own consciousness slowly slipping away. He felt dizzy, his body burning with pain and begging him to let go, to just let the darkness swallow him whole and cut his suffering. Then there were some sounds, yelling and cursing, followed by what sounded vaguely like an explosion, making Momota flinch much to the protest of his aching muscles. Those were the sounds that throughout his years of being a hero he’s learned to associate with a battleground.  

 

And then there was silence. 

 

He strained his ears but for the longest moment there was nothing, just the heavy with dust air and twitter of birds above his head.

 

Momota lied there for what felt like hours, his mind floating somewhere at the edge of falling asleep and limbs numb beneath him. When the sound of footsteps approaching hurriedly reached his ears he was pretty sure he was hallucinating.  

 

“Momota-chan is so reckless,” said the voice he’s heard before, the second one, the one voice that sounded familiar but he couldn’t tell why. “What a big, big dummy.”

 

Once more there was a hand in his hair, a different one this time, brushing the loose strands of hair that fell on his face back. The feeling of cool fingers felt almost heavenly against the hot skin of his forehead. He leaned into the touch instinctively, a whimper that in any other circumstances would have been embarrassing escaping his lips involuntarily.

 

The gentle touch didn’t last long, withdrawing suddenly. A few moments passed and the next thing he could feel was his body being hoisted, the loss of ground under his feet making his head spin violently.

 

“Ooops, sorry!” Came the voice again, still cheerful. It didn’t sound apologetic at all. 

 

Momota struggled to keep his eyes open but it was a losing battle.

 

“Geez, Momota-chan, you are the worst hero ever,” was the last thing he heard before the relief of nothingness finally claimed him. 

  
  


***

 

He woke up with a groan, all of his muscles aching in agony, consciousness coming back to him slowly and lazily, breaking through the haze that enclosed his mind.

 

“Oooh, the sleeping beauty is back!”

 

He blinked, trying to force his eyes to work as they should, the shapes before him coming into focus with apparent difficulty. He was lying across something warm and soft, the satin material soothing and pleasant to touch. He could feel water dripping down his face and after a moment he realized that there was a wet cloth placed on his forehead, bringing relief to his feverish skin. 

 

The first thing he saw was a familiar face dominating his entire field of vision, wide smile stretching on thin lips and a mop of dark hair curling at the tips. 

 

“Ouma,” he rasped. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

It hurt to talk, words coming out stifled and his throat burning and begging for water. His head was throbbing and the shrill sound of Ouma’s giggles wasn’t helping. His chest felt heavy, covered in what he identified as bandages, wrapped around his torso tightly. His ankle wasn’t throbbing anymore, pain still present but subdued, coated with a heavy layer of some gel that was most likely to prevent the swelling. 

 

“Waiting for you to wake up so I can kill you while you’re awake, duh!” 

 

Momota’s eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion carving deep lines into his forehead. His whole face scrunched up as he tried to remember what happened, make some sense out of the mess that was his head. He was… he was on a mission. The girl he was fighting - the one with shapeshifting powers - changed her form and used a moment of hesitance against him, just when he was about to attack. His own powers, depending on the absorption of lunar energy, during the day were more reliable in defense rather than offense, forcing him to resort to hand to hand combat once the enemy came too close. Saihara even warned him beforehand that Team Danganronpa had their profiles, knew their weaknesses... 

 

His team must have sent Ouma when he didn’t report back. 

 

He swallowed the bile in his throat, the taste of blood still lingering, and forced himself to ask the most urgent question. 

 

“Did you get the machine?”

 

Ouma rolled his eyes. 

 

“No, because I had to drag  _ someone  _ all the way here,” he drawled, plopping on the bed next to Momota and swinging his legs back and forth like a child. 

 

Momota could feel his stomach sinking. He failed. 

 

“Buuut there’s a but!” Ouma tapped a finger against his lips and tilted his head to the side, a smirk creeping on his face. “I got _ this _ !”

 

He reached to the pocket and swiftly pulled out a small square object with a single wire coming out of it.

 

Momota squinted, blinking away the darkness and blurriness still threatening at the edges of his vision. It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at.

 

“A… a chip?”

 

Ouma clapped his hands enthusiastically, a delighted grin on his face.

 

“Yay, ten points for Momota-chan!” He announced happily like a host on a TV show.

 

Momota’s brows furrowed in confusion, Ouma’s teasing ignored in favor of getting the answers.

 

“What’s so special about the chip?” 

 

“Eh, Whore-chan says that if they don’t have the chip the machine won’t work,” shrugged Ouma. “So it’s pretty much useless without it.”

 

He hopped off the bed, a mischievous smile playing on his face.    
  
“Those Ronpas are going to have a surprise, nishishi!” 

 

“So… the mission was a success!” Momota’s face brightened and he let out a short relieved laugh that quickly transformed into a coughing fit, his insides aching in protest. No laughing for him, then. 

 

Despite that, he couldn’t help but grin widely, leaning against the pillows propping him more comfortably.

 

“You did good, Ouma,” he praised with his new-found confidence. He reached out his hand to ruffle Ouma’s dark unruly strands. “It’s great to have a sidekick like you!” 

 

Ouma swatted his hand away with a pout. 

 

“Momota-chan is delusional,” he complained. His eyes flickered to Momota’s body, eyeing the heavy coat of bandages wrapped around his broad chest. His expression fell for a second in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of way but he quickly bounced back to his cheerful self. “But I’ll allow it since he has a boo-boo.” 

 

Shortly after that Ouma left, hurrying to take the chip to Iruma and Professor Iidabashi and lock it up securely as per Tojo’s orders. He was almost out of the door when he turned back, flashed Momota a peace sign and ordered him to ‘just get better already’. 

 

And then he was gone, leaving Momota chuckling and drawing the blanket left by Ouma closer in hopes of getting some more sleep before Mikan could come to take a closer look at his injuries, chastising him for being so reckless. He didn’t have to wait long, easily slipping into the comforting embrace of sleep as soon as he closed his eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Woah, so here goes my first fic for Oumota Weekend! I know that it isn't the most original thing I've ever written but I had fun writing it! Tomorrow I'm going to post my fic for day three. Unfortunately, my Hogwarts AU for day two will be a little late, probably on Monday afternoon but might be later. 
> 
> As always I'd love to hear what you think! 
> 
> Happy Oumota Weekend, everyone!


End file.
